


Despicable

by closet_monster



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, Love/Hate, Sexual Content, Smut, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closet_monster/pseuds/closet_monster
Summary: Dick understood sexual tension.But fuck, did it have to be her?
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 144





	Despicable

**Author's Note:**

> Good night I hate this. Clara this is your fault. Entirely your fault. I know that this is very very bad - which is sad because CLARA YOU'RE PERFECT and I wanted to write you a perfect oneshot. But it sucks I guess. I tried.  
> Ladies and gentlemen and those who don't identify as either - there goes the worst thing you'll ever see.

The first time I saw Dick Grayson, I knew I'd hate his guts even before he opened his filthy mouth.

The vigilante running under the name of Nightwing was everything I despised within the limits of a single body: a rich and entitled white boy, overly confident, arrogant, bearing a saviour syndrome, incapable of doing teamwork, individualistic son of a bitch. Awkward, annoying, individualistic son of a bitch.

And he didn't like me either.

Maybe because I never once failed to call him out on his bullshit - as he did for me often enough.

Everyone knew better than to keep us together in the same environment for too long (or at all). Being around each other was hardly ever anything but stressful: sooner or later, one of us would slip on something to potentially start an argument or a bad, awkward mood. So we would all consciously dance around the topic, making sure to annihilate any possibility of getting involved with each other, by all means.

He did his shit, I did mine.

And we were so different, anyway. While that dumbass was running around in a stupid blue costume on his scheme to change the world, I simply stirred some sticks to make sure things went my way - working on the public relations team of the city hall, I had easy access to everything that happened in both Blüdhaven and Gotham City.

I quietly played my cards right and eventually pulled some effort on the streets, just to make sure it was all under control. For every contact I had made over the years, it was most likely that I'd just share an information and then watch the mess unfold itself from home.

They were all thirsty for clues and adrenaline, anyway.

But with Dick Grayson, I liked it better if he didn't even contact me in the first place. If he needed something from me, one of our friends would make that bridge and we'd never even have to deal with each other.

It was the right way to go about this.

Now, imagine how surprising it was to hear his voice after picking up a call from an unknown number.

_ 'Why are you calling me?' _

_ 'I need a favour.' _

_ 'Of course you do.' _ I huffed, fingers hovering over the red button to end the call.  _ 'So?' _

_ 'I have a lead on an action that someone might be pulling on your dear city hall. Coded messages and some interesting keywords.' _

_ 'Huh. Is that it?'  _ I murmured, taking my fingers away from the screen.  _ 'What are you waiting for? Start talking.' _

Dick had been chasing someone for the entirety of three months. Apparently, a bomber with an interest for figures of authority - someone who was now interested in exploding the mayor and about a dozen city councillors. Righteously, that is: Blüdhaven was a fucked up, corrupt place, it's politicians leaching the community relentlessly rather than giving something in return.

It wasn't any less of a crime, though. Besides, it endangered a fuck ton of people who worked there, me included.

So the favor Dick asked of me was to give him everyone's plans, personal information and agendas, so he could study and prepare for all the situations. I added more to this request: I also adapted the entire calendar to cancel every public appearance and any other situation that organized a large body of civilians around the city.

It didn't change the fact that we still had a bomber on the streets.

A boring wednesday afternoon, that's what it was - with all the alterations I did, there wasn't a lot happening on the office. Besides, the climate was slightly rainy, but not exactly cold; I had gone to work wearing jeans, a light shirt and a cardigan.

Big mistake.

I knew it the second I saw Grayson's stupid face as I started to leave for the day, walking to my direction. I probably should have wound up to work in combat boots and fucking kevlar - I could tell that this was exactly what he wore under that black trench coat.

We both inched closer to the blind spot of the hallway, behind a tall column.

"The fuck you're doing here?"

"My guy is in the building."

"And you didn't think you'd give me a call beforehand?"

By the pained, guilty expression he gave me, I assumed that he definitely could have, but totally didn't. A string of insults were just rolling off the tip of my tongue, but a ground shaking impact stole the words from me.

"There's the guy." Dick smirked at me, slapping my shoulder mockingly. "Come on, what are you waiting for?"

No soul, dead or alive, could possibly understand how raw my hatred for that man was. Dick Grayson woke the most violent and enraged parts of me so easily, I wondered if there were any more levels to unlock.

That day sucked.

The city hall was bombed in three different locations and of course we barely got to do anything about it, because Dick had never even contacted anyone for backup. So all in all it was Nightwing and me, wearing a pink cardigan, wedge heels and tight jeans that didn't even have pockets. But sure, we did get the guy: Dick knocked him blind and then pinned him to a pillar with tape. We managed to direct people outside, leaving as soon as a dozen of sirens started to sound on the distance.

I also twisted my ankle running down the stairs - wedge heels weren't really made for action.

He motioned to pick me up, but I slapped his hands away. I'd be catched dead before he scooped me up defenseless. I wouldn't pass by that with either of my friends, let alone with someone whose head I wanted impaled in public square.

"Come on, let me take you to the car." He insisted, reaching out to hold my arm, which I didn't oblige.

A little support wouldn't hurt, but  _ hell,  _ did I hate it.

The car Dick spoke of was black, slender and not very conventional, which made me believe it was used exclusively for these type of occasions. I took off my shoes as soon as we got inside, inspecting the bruise on my ankle; it looked red and seemed to be swelling to the shape of an orange.

The fact that I didn't stop running after the fall probably played a part on it.

And despite how good Dick was at being a terrible driver, we had a hard time to get out of that neighborhood. The police made a quick effort to close the roads and to surround the perimeter. That caused an ugly car chase in the practically infested, busy streets - leading us to impossible routes and terrible obstacles that the car would inevitably run over or crash against.

"Hold tight!" Dick laughed by my side, taking a sharp turn that made my head go against the window.

"I could kill right now, you fucking…" Another sharp turn, my head went back to the window with a loud thud. "DICK GRAYSON! IF THEY CATCH US, I'M TELLING THE POLICE YOU FUCKING KIDNAPPED ME!"

Taking by the smirk on his lips, he didn't take my threat seriously at all - but he should have, because I definitely would it.

But he  _ was _ a terrible driver. After basically driving the cops into a dizzy race, he pulled us out of it so fast, they didn't even notice that our car went missing. He then drove past the avenue leading to my apartment and also the venue to the fucking hospital.

"Where are you taking me?" I breathed in, leaning back to the headrest. "It better not be your place, Grayson.

It was.

But it's not like I could run away from him by foot - or get into a physical fight like this (but fuck,  _ I wish). _ By the time we parked inside his garage, the adrenaline running through my body had worn off and and my foot started to feel even worse than before. I didn't slap his hands away when he came to help me out, but I didn't lend my entire weight on him either.

"I just need some ice."

Dick had carefully placed me on the couch, leaving to what had to be the kitchen. He came back not long after, mask off, with two ice packs in hands.

"I'm going to twist it back in place first." 

He did it before I could even question what that was supposed to mean. To "twist it back in place", I learned, was exactly what it sounded like and it felt just as bad as one would imagine. The original wound barely made me hiss, but Dick's solution for it definitely did: a mad roar tore through my lungs as I lunged forward to swat him away.

It had been done already. I no longer had anything to defend myself from, but god, I wanted to kick that grin off his face so bad. And despite all the threats I had made to his well being, he still stayed to press the ice packs around my ankle.

Thirty minutes or so after that, Dick changed back into normal clothes to drive me home, this time around in a regular BMW. I declined his offer to help me upstairs, almost running away after thanking him for the help. Then, I spent plus thirty minutes soaking on the bathtub, thinking to myself that since Grayson was the reason I got hurt on the first place, I shouldn't have thanked him for shit.

That dumbass.




I cashed in a favour in return.

Doing a basic check in financial transactions, I noticed a minor disparity in between one of the city councilors and his respective peers. Upon further inspection, I realized that he had been transferring money to an international bank account - and that quantity of money made no sense whatsoever considering his income tax return.

A week worth of investigation took me to a new deal of money laundering involving the councillor, a supermarket owner and a dirty deputy that kept burying the case every single time I anonymously tried to bring it up.

And when the overall police isn't to be trusted…

Dick Grayson was the next close thing I had.

He jumped on the case as soon as I told him about it, taking everything from me and disappearing in the wind to go solve it. A great part of me always loved the commodity, but some small part was almost offended that he'd shut me out of my own case.

Although, being a cop, that probably made it "his case" just as much. And I just wanted it fixed, in the end. As long as he didn't fuck everything up on his way there, I'd swallow it.

"Done."

The sudden voice made me jump, my first reflex being to throw the remote in it's direction. I then looked around for anymore weapons on my living room, but I didn't find anything else as effective (and I wasn't about to throw my phone away). Whatever it was, I'd put them down by hand.

I turned around ready for a fight, but when I did, my vision was nothing but Nightwing crouching down on top of my balcony rail, my remote in one of his hands.

The Nightwing suit really looked at it's best during the night. The fact that Dick's body was… Well. The way it was - made it even more impressive. The dark fabric hugged his form perfectly, every spot lit by the moon turned blue. His hair looked a lot lore disheveled than usual, too, but I decided to blame that on the wind. He was… Stupid. Arrogant. Ridiculous. That's what he was.

_ "You motherfucker…" _

"Can't deny that you have good aim." He smiled, jumping out of the balcony to get inside. "Nice clothes, by the way."

I just had been walking out of the living room to go to bed, wearing panties and a large shirt - and planning on taking it all off to sleep. I was most definitely not planning on getting a visitor, much less a stupid vigilante secretly climbing inside through the balcony.

"Keep your eyes up, dumbass." I barked at him, crossing my arms over my breasts. "What's going on?"

"Like I said: done." He waved the remote around before placing it down by the TV. "I did a quick check on the precincts to trace back to your guy. He was working alone there, the rest of the force is clean."

I wondered if he had started with that to clear out that his buddies weren't all assholes. Dick was still a cop, after all.

"What's with him?"

"Nothing too deep under the surface." He shrugged, moving forward to stand closer to me - now that was enough to make me self conscious of how much I wore. His body language and expressions were all harmless, though, so I brushed it off. "Bad guy trying to make easy money. Got a confession from him and the other two; and the newspaper has a recorder with a brand new headline for tomorrow."

"Not too bad." I nodded at him, than cocked my head to balcony behind him. "And you can go now. I got work to do."

"What do you mean? I took care of everything." His pretty face was taken by a deep frown; and I almost scolded myself for thinking anything positive about him.  _ Again. _ "They're all in jail right now, accounts being investigated by the police."

"Sure. And? I work in public relations, Grayson." I rolled my eyes, trying to hold back a sigh. "If my office is about to go through a scandal, I need a crisis containment plan."

"Oh, you'll get around that." He smirked, stepping back from me. Probably leaving. "Now  _ you _ go take care of this."

"Oh, you can suck my dick, Grays..." I barked at him, almost lunging forward when he jumped from the balcony.

How dare he? Take the case I investigated and built and then act like he's the one in charge of it? That pretentious motherfucker! I wish I could kick his balls for that - but to be fair, my ankle was still so stiff, the mere thought of it gave me goosebumps.

And if anything… I also felt a little too hot (and maybe a little too wet). So  _ maybe _ I locked myself on the bathroom, and  _ maybe _ I touched myself on the bathtub - and only  _ maybe _ , I had him in mind the entire time.




Dick had dealt with Jason; from childhood, to teenagehood, to Red Hood. Dick had dealt with Damian; from being a 4'4 murderer to being an over complicated preteen sociopath. He had also dealt with so many and so fucking much - and yet, there wasn't a single person on earth who could burn through his nerves as easily as she did.

That mouthy goblin.

That rude, know-it-all, scrutinizing, maddening, beautiful goblin.

Because as annoying as that girl was, she was also so fucking beautiful. And every time she have him that mean look - the one that usually meant  _ "get the fuck out of my way"  _ \- the air felt too thick when Dick tried to breathe in. He felt a little too hot, too impatient, his brain too short circuited.

Dick understood sexual tension. But  _ fuck, _ did it have to be her?

"Roy and I have a bet of which one of you will make the first move." Jason joked from the passenger seat, looking out of the window.

"Fuck off."

Jason owed him a favor - or, to be fair, about a hundred. Dick never really planned on charging for any of it, but he needed help with something and Jason was the person he trusted the most to guard his back. And what better way to convince his wayward little brother to help, if not by making it clear that it was for lack of better option? So Dick went against his usual modus operandi, gave in and actually asked for it. Kyle Higgins had started to become a pain in the ass and he wanted to get it over with.

"He laid a 100 dollars on you, but unlike him, I'm not a dumbass and I know you." Jason shrugged, taking his phone off his pocket. "Besides, I know my girl is bad, so I laid a 100 on her."

"I don't know why I still let you talk" Dick shook his head, grasping the steering wheel harder.

Jason had been friends with her for a while - and Dick always asked himself if there was something else going on in between the two of them. But taking it from his words, they were just friends; and Jason had placed a 100 dollars that she would make a move on him first. Like it wasn't clear that she absolutely fucking loathed him.




The next time I saw Dick Grayson, it was fully aware that I definitely had a draw towards him. And maybe because I knew, I also noticed the way he looked back at me - though it could have been the product of my imagination. Maybe. Possibly. Probably. And then every other encounter was a mix of more of those strange looks. And awkward looks. And then fights. And looks. And insults. And awkward moods which sometimes were because of the strange looks we had been trading. More insults. Looks.

It was a matter of weeks.

The next time he came over to my apartment, to settle yet another work arrangement we had made, I had been waiting for him. Maybe just so that I could breathe out when he walked away, or something like that.

"Did you get the files I asked for?"

He was in the balcony again.

"You  _ do _ realize that I have a door and that you didn't have to suit up for this, right?" I rolled my eyes, getting off the couch to get the files from the table.

Dick had wanted intel on the health's secretary. More politicians fucking shit up around the city; diversion of funds, overall teft, the same as always. I had a lead, then he had a plan, and I made a research. Now, he could use the files I organised to put it in action and hopefully, help lessen the shit around the city.

I just hoped the weird tension in between us didn't get in the middle of it. Lately, I felt like a creep. Like the worst, weirdest, most disgusting type of creep there is. Downright filthy.

"What? Don't you think I look cute in a mask?"

He was smirking at me, when I looked over my shoulders. The flustered teenager in me wanted to look away, but the grown woman with blood on her eyes stared right back.

"Take your fucking files, Grayson." I extended the stacks of paper for him, trying to keep a challenging expression on my face.

I'm not sure of how we both agreed that he absolutely wouldn't, but when we kissed each other instead, it didn't really feel out of the blue. I peeled that stupid mask off of his face with my nails, his hands not being much more delicate when he took off my shirt.

"Don't you dare break my bra."

And then he did.

I couldn't destroy his suit in revenge. To be fair, I wasn't even sure of how to wrangle it off him, but Dick pulled something behind his back and the structure eased around his chest. Then, all I had to do was to pull it down - and it came. We kissed each other all the way to my bedroom door, feet stepping over each other all the time.

He cornered me on the doorstep, hands placed right over the waistband of my shorts. I waited for him to take it off, but the action never came. And when I realized that his hands weren't going to move at all, I checked for it on his eyes: they were questioning and slightly serious.

"You're sure, aren't you?"

This was quite curious, considering that his fingers were hovering just about 3 inches away from my vagina.

"You're getting second thoughts now?" I smirked at him, snaking my fingers on the waistband of his boxers. "Scared of me?"

The expression on his face definitely matched mine.

"You know, Jason and Roy have a bet on which one of us would make the first move." He smirked back, raising one of his eyebrows. "Jason placed his on you."

Oh, the stupid fucking fucking bet. When Roy told me about it, I almost beheaded him because of it. And maybe it was because someone knowing that I might have had an attraction for Dick made me feel beyond mortified.

"I know. And Jason is getting a 100 dollars." I smiled sweetly at him, as soon as his hands started to move my shorts down, along with my underwear.

So slowly.

"How dare you?" He kissed me again, and I had goosebumps when it all fell down to the floor. "I was the first."

_ "Liar." _ I shook my head, lacing one of my legs around his waist. He pulled the other one up, taking me from the floor and pressing me against the wall again. "Liar. I started this and you know it. 

"Mutual timing?" Dick suggested, pressing himself against my hips. The action took the remark off my lips, the smallest friction on my center just feeling so fucking right and drawing a gasp from me.

"No." I shook my head, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, I kept moving my hips against his with the very clean intent of chasing more of that feeling. "I win."

Dick didn't argue with me any further.

I straddled him on the bed, just like what I had been daydreaming about. And I rode him as hard as I could first, trying to chase that sensation tightening on my core - and also to keep making him moan like that. The motherfucker just sounded so good. And he eventually flipped us around, taking me on his rhythm - and I didn't last too long after that.

We laid together for a while, in complete silence. In part because I was actually tired (and somewhat dizzy, which I would never admit to), but also because I had no fucking idea of what to say - for once, in my entire life.

"This is the most quiet I ever saw you." Dick murmurs by my side, with a pinch of sarcasm to his voice. I can tell from my peripheral vision that he's looking at me, but I can't bring myself to look back.

"I'm breathing."

"Quite dramatically."

That comment drew a laugh from me, and I finally made myself look back. We had kept the lights off, but I could see enough of him from the small light that came from the living room. His face was perfectly peaceful, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips.

"Does this mean you'll stop being a dick?" I proposed, touching his chest tentatively.

"What do you mean I'm a dick?" He frowned, feigning innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, of course you do." I rose over my elbows, squinting at him playfully. "You sure do, Grayson. 

"Hm. Let me prove my innocence."

_ "Oh?" _

"Yes."


End file.
